I can read between the broken lines of communiqué and discern a malignant growth of dissent. A guarded intention decoded and translated, no longer spoken in soft confidence at the edge of the room. Negotiating the layman's terms and laying bare hostility within. Your language of violence, I speak it, and I speak it quite well. I can read you like lines of coding. I can read you like poetry. Like a diagram of a coward, I can read you. I speak your language. I can read you.
